The Most Epic Annals Ever Told
by PineappleGrenade
Summary: Whilst camping out in a forest with the other companions, Raistlin and Tasslehoff share a very important and secret conversation.


The clearing, lit dimly by the stars that made up the three constellations of the gods shining through the leaves of the surrounding trees, was peaceful and quiet. The companions, weary from their adventures of the day, slept content in the knowledge that they were safe. Not a sound was to be heard. The only thing that broke the blissful solitude of the twilight was the gently rumbling snore of Caramon Majere, who was meant to be keeping watch but had fallen asleep leaning up against a tree, dreaming of breakfast.

"_Raistlin_!"

A shrill whisper suddenly disturbed the peace of the forest. From not too far off came the frustrated cry of an owl as the noise startled its prey into hiding. Pulling gracefully out of its deadly swoop, it turned back to circle ghost-like above the treetops, whilst down below the whisper sounded again.

"Raistlin!"

The frail, golden-skinned mage stirred in his sleep, haunted by spectres that called his name in sepulchre tones. Through a haze of sleep he could feel something tugging on the hem of his robes, breaking the gossamer threads of dreaming that blanketed him. Within seconds he had shaken off the last few strands and was sitting up as fast as his shattered body would allow, instinctively reaching out a thin hand for the brother that was not at his side, feeling the reassuring smoothness of the dagger secured to his wrist.

As he sat up, he felt a small weight tumble into his lap and he found himself looking down into two bright, shining eyes. Sighing, he stilled quick fingers that would release the concealed weapon and instead curled his hand around the Staff of Magius that was kept always by his side. A dry whisper of "_Shirak_" and a soft glow from the crystal atop the staff lit the air around him.

The kender on his lap blinked in the sudden light and rubbed at his eyes with small hands.

"Tasslehoff, what is it? Why did you wake me?" Raistlin hissed in his soft voice, hourglass eyes scanning the clearing for any signs of trouble. He took note of his slumbering brother with a wry smile, but apart from that there was nothing to cause alarm. In fact, all seemed very peaceful, but the harebrained kender must have had a reason for waking him.

Taking his long topknot of hair in his hands and twisting it, unnerved as always by the mirror-like eyes of the mage burning into him, Tasslehoff mumbled "I couldn't sleep."

Raistlin stared incredulously at the small figure for a moment. Of all the things… Irritated, his mood not helped by the dry cough that he could feel lurking in his ribcage like a malevolent shadow; he deemed an answer to be beneath him and led back down in pointed silence. He felt the weight of the kender slip from him to the grassy ground and pillowed his head on his arm in some relief, already feeling himself slip back into sleep.

"Raistlin, there's something I want to ask you. I hope you don't mind…" The small voice spoke up suddenly beside his ear, almost making him jump.

"Go away or I'll turn you into a frog."

Tas sat back on his heels and considered this proposition most thoughtfully. "Whilst I do think it would be quite interesting being a frog," he began slowly, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet just to see what it would be like having to hop about everywhere, "I think I enjoy being a kender more. You see, I don't think I would really enjoy the taste of flies and whilst, as a frog, I suppose I wouldn't mind the taste as much and would in time get used to it, I would much prefer…"

Sometimes, Raistlin reflected, it was best just to give in to kenders if only for the sake a getting a decent night's sleep. "What is it you wanted to ask me?" he interrupted the other's ceaseless flow of words.

The question seemed to catch Tasslehoff off guard. His mouth snapped shut and his eyes opened wide, the topknot finding its way into his hands to be twisted once again. He cleared his throat and glanced around the clearing as if he were having second thoughts about the whole thing. "You see, what it is, I've just been, uh, I've been wondering…" He fidgeted under the intense glare of the mage, his words tripping each other up on the way out of his mouth. "It's been bothering me for quite some time now – What exactly do wizards wear under their robes?"

For a moment, Raistlin could do nothing but stare at the kender. _That_ was what he had been woken up for? He didn't know whether to laugh or be angry, so he settled for pressing his face into the crook of his arm to hide a smile and hissing "Go back to sleep, Burrfoot."

His lower lip jutting in a pout of disappointment, Tas very slowly got up. "I really want to know…" he pleaded in a small voice, standing indecisively on one leg as he used the other foot to itch the back of his calf. "When we were fighting those goblins earlier, which was really exciting, wasn't it? Anyway, when we were fighting them you summoned up some magic and your robes were whipping quite dramatically around you, it made me wonder what you were wearing beneath them. I suppose leggings might get a little hot under there," he spared a glance down at his own bright blue leggings, "but it could be a little embarrassing if you didn't have _anything_ on underneath them and whilst you were casting a spell some magical wind just sort of, well, blew your robes up and… Raistlin, are you alright? You're shaking…" Tas bit down on his lip. "You'll be okay; I'll go and get Caramon…"

He was just about to run to the mage's twin brother, when a slender hand reached out and caught hold of his wrist. The strange burning touch sent a little jolt through the Tas that he would have classified as fear, were it not that kenders never got scared. Instead, he decided that it was surprise and turned back to face Raistlin, an apology ready on his lips just in case the young mage looked like he was about to cast a frog transformation spell.

Therefore, it came as something of a surprise to find that Raistlin didn't look angry at all. A thin smile, rarely seen on his serious face, graced his lips and there were small tears of laughter in the corners of his hourglass eyes.

It was even more of a surprise when Raistlin answered his question.

"I shouldn't worry about that happening," he said in a grave tone, although Tas thought he could detect a mocking quality in that soft voice and the quirk of the smiling lips which made him blush a little. "But, Tasslehoff Burrfoot, what a mage wears beneath his robes is a secret of the art that we are sworn to tell no one else, like the components of our spells and the secrets of Nuitari, the black moon."

Tas gulped, impressed. Nodding solemnly he added in almost hopeful tones "If you told me, you'd have to kill me?"

"Something like that," Raistlin agreed with a smile that didn't quite reach his cursed eyes. "Now go back to sleep Tas, we have a long way to go tomorrow and I need my rest if I am to be able to make it." As if in protest at the exertion it would be pushed through, his chest summoned forced a dry, hacking cough into his throat. The smile died on his blood-flecked lips and wearily the mage led back down, his eyes drifting closed.

"Goodnight Raistlin," the kender said softly, still standing beside the young man.

Tas waited a moment until he was sure that Raistlin was asleep, the mage's thin chest moving with each slow, rhythmic breath. "If he can't tell me, I suppose I'll just have to find out for myself," Tasslehoff whispered to himself, walking down towards Raistlin's feet on tiptoe so that he wouldn't wake the sleeping mage. "Besides, if I just take a tiny look it's not like he's given away any secrets. In fact, he won't even know that I know anything, and if he doesn't know that I know what all wizards know then he won't have to turn me into a frog. Not that I would mind being a frog; it would certainly be a lot more interesting than being dead."

After all that logic, Tasslehoff's brain hurt a little but he ignored the slight pain. Hunkering down on his knees, very quietly, he wrapped one small hand around the hem of Raistlin's robes and took a quick glance around to make sure that everyone else was still asleep. "Just a little peek and then the mystery will be solved… I'm sure Raistlin wouldn't mind _too_ much. Especially if he never finds out."

Taking a deep breath and turning his face away in case the robes were protected by some sort of magic spell, Tas lifted the hem of Raistlin's robe in a quick, decisive action. Nothing happened, which was slightly disappointing. Releasing his pent up breath, Tasslehoff looked down and gave a little gasp of surprise. There was another robe beneath the one he'd lifted!

Intrigued, the inquisitive kender lifted the second robe and came across another, and another. Soon he was holding a whole fistful of hems, but no matter how many he lifted up there always seemed to be another one beneath it. "This is quite exasperating," he told the material in his sternest voice, but that didn't make the slightest bit of difference. Eventually, he grew bored and gave up, wandering back to his blanket to sleep.

"It seems to me," he murmured to himself as he burrowed back down into his blanket's warm folds, "that what a wizard wears beneath his robes is simply more robes." With that mystery solved, he drifted off into a pleasant, dream-filled sleep.

Having heard the kender go back to bed, Raistlin ceased the soft chanting of his replication spell and allowed himself an indulgent smile. Knowing that Tasslehoff would be unable to resist taking a look for himself, the mage had only feigned sleep and then summoned a spell that would created the illusion of never ending robes. After all, it wouldn't do at all if word got around that all Raistlin Majere wore beneath his mage's robes was a lacy leopard print thong.

One day, this would be of great import, but for now not many people were privy to that information.


End file.
